


Where Do You Think You’re Going?

by missblueeyes63



Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: Blindness, Brotherhood, Failed escape, Gen, Hallucinations, Hanging, Hurt/Comfort, Migraine, Rescue, Waking up Restrained, Whump Clay, Whumptober 2020, concussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26965816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missblueeyes63/pseuds/missblueeyes63
Summary: Whumptober prompts: No 1. LET'S HANG OUT SOMETIME (Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging), No 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING? (On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue), No 16. A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY (Forced to Beg | Hallucinations | Shoot the Hostage), No 26. IF YOU THOUGHT THE HEAD TRAUMA WAS BAD… (Migraine | Concussion | Blindness)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 69
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Where Do You Think You’re Going?

**Where Do You Think You're Going?**

* * *

Fighting against his rise to consciousness, wanting to stay on the beach with Brian with his toes in the water and his ass in the sand, Clay remained motionless. Try as he might, his mind forced him back to the waking world, and with it came the waves of pain he desperately wanted to escape. His lashes lifted only a fraction, afraid any light would send him spiraling and make him puke. He only found darkness—pitch black—not a sliver of light to illuminate the inkiness surrounding him.

Panic began to take hold—the last time his eyes were open thin beams of soft yellow shone under the door to his cell. The last hit—the one to his head which sent him to oblivion must've been worse than he thought … they blinded him.

Now blind, alone, shoeless, shirtless, unarmed, chained by his wrists, beat to hell in the past god-only-knows hours or days, Clay had a hard time clinging to the hope of rescue. Even if he managed to get himself out of the iron manacles and open the door, he wouldn't know what direction to go—and being sightless he could walk off a cliff and die ten feet from freedom.

A sound to his left caused Clay to flinch. His cell was too tiny to contain more than one person. Just big enough for one pad—why they included a pad for him to lay on still boggled his mind—his wrists were shackled to the walls on either side with only enough chain to allow him to sit or lie on his back. The short links prevented him from turning to one side or another—which he wished he could do to relieve pressure on his left shoulder since the ringmaster of this circus dislocated it when stringing him up for a round of piñata bashing.

Clay hated being the piñata, but no matter how many times they hit him, he refused to answer any of their questions—he wouldn't be spilling any treats for them to consume—even if they split him wide open.

Returning his attention to the sound, Clay could swear it sounded like Sonny snoring. _Well, hell, let's chalk one up for hallucinations, it'll round out my list of head trauma symptoms. Migraine, check. Nausea, check. Light sensitivity, check … well, uncheck … 'cause I can't f'ing see. Hallucinating Sonny is snoring beside me, check … double-check._

The snore sounded again, this time more distinct. Clay attempted to sit up, a moan escaping from him as his shoulder screamed as he tried to move his left arm to assist. But when it didn't move, almost like it was strapped to his chest, Clay became confused. He lifted his right hand to feel his left, but the clank of metal came with an abrupt halt of his arm's motion—still restrained.

"Whoa there. Where do you think you're going?"

Clay froze at the Texas drawl. _My hallucination is talking to me now. Crap._

"Hey, no way you're getting out of here."

Struggling to understand why his fake Sonny would be so cruel … his best bud should be telling him to hang on, they were coming to rescue him and to not give up hope. Not making it clear he wouldn't be leaving. The desolation that wrought on his heart caused Clay's eyes to well with tears. He was truly alone and even his subconscious must've accepted he wouldn't be getting out of this predicament alive.

"Hey, hey, none of that…"

A scrape of something on tile and rustling of fabric sounded before a soft, damp cloth lightly brushed over his face, taking away the pooling liquid. _My mind is truly screwed, the hallucination just became tactical._

Clay didn't have time to consider more as his ears picked up footsteps to the right. His captors always came from that direction. Though he endeavored not to show fear, his body went rigid in anticipation of the next round. His head whipped to the right as another familiar voice spoke.

"Got your text. He still awake?" Jason asked as he entered the room.

"Yeah, but I don't think he's with it yet. He hasn't responded to me." Sonny stood close to the hospital bed.

Ray eyed the soft cuff restraint. "Why the hell is that on his wrist? We took him out of that hellhole. Take it off, now."

"Necessary," Sonny sighed and shifted his toothpick to the other side of his mouth.

"Why?" Jason asked.

Sonny met his team leader's gaze. "Bamm Bamm tried to leave … five times last night. Made it to the nurses' station once when I nodded off."

Brock hurried in, followed by Trent. He went straight to Clay's bedside and smiled as he spotted those blue eyes. "Hey, Clay. Glad you're awake finally."

"He's not with it yet," Sonny said.

Trent pushed his way to Clay's side. "Clay, look at me."

Clay turned in the direction of Trent's voice. His whole team was now part of his hallucination.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Why the fuck are you tormenting me … I'm not making it out of here alive … doesn't matter how many damned fingers you hold up … I can't see a damned thing." Clay shut his eyes, wishing to be back with Brian on the beach instead of in this weird world his concussed brain created.

"See, he's—"

"No need to keep repeating yourself," Jason interrupted Sonny before turning to Trent. "His eyes … if he can't see us, perhaps he doesn't realize this is real."

"Possible. The doctor said the blindness is only temporary, and he took several hard hits to his head before we got to him." Trent shifted his gaze to the monitors.

"Think I should sneak Cerb in here? Might help him realize where he is." Brock sagged against the wall. The past week after rescuing the kid had them all on edge. After three weeks of non-stop door-kicking, they found him chained in a tiny cell … unresponsive and in dire condition.

"I'll help you sneak the hair missile in … can't stand the confused panic on the kid's face much longer." Sonny hated the touchy-feely stuff, but one Clay Spencer, a blond pain-in-the-ass rookie, and badass SEAL, breached his walls and sat smack dab in his heart and became the little brother he never realized he wanted.

At the mention of Cerb, Clay opened his eyes again and turned in the direction of his friend. His unused voice came out soft and raspy, "Sonny?"

Whipping his eyes to Clay, Sonny's hand touched Clay's right shoulder. "I'm here, little buddy."

Ray started to undo the restraint as he said, "Don't care if he tries to wander away again … he shouldn't be cuffed after all he's been through."

His wrist released, Clay moved his hand up to his shoulder, seeking Sonny's hand. As he clasped it, he asked, "Real?"

Jason smiled. "As real as he gets, kid. We're all here … you are safe." The weight of the monkey on his back started to lift. When Clay went missing while assisting a CIA lackey as an interpreter, he'd been pissed off … the kid shouldn't have been sent alone.

Clay's mind began to gel … coming into the present as the past faded. Bit and pieces, little fragments floated in his memory. Being pulled out of his cell, strung up by his wrist, the hit to his head before his lights went out. Snatches of gunfire. Sonny yelling for Trent. Screaming in pain as he was lifted and moved. Jason reassuring him he was safe now. A cold snout nuzzling his face before Brock told Cerb to leave him alone. Ray praying … out loud … asking God to save his brother's life.

"Where am I?" Clay croaked.

"Home … well, Virginia … the hospital," Trent supplied.

"Can't see."

"Should be temporary … until the swelling goes down. Might be blurry when your sight returns but the doc said you should recover fully with a little time."

"Water?"

"Yeah, here." Sonny reached for the plastic cup with the bendy straw and positioned it in Clay's open mouth.

Sucking down cold water, Clay sated his thirst as he realized his brothers had come for him … and always would. His tongue pushed out the straw and he sighed. "I've had me a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day."

"More like a few weeks, Goldilocks." Sonny set the cup down, relieved Clay appeared to be cognizant of his surroundings … unlike the last five times he woke and tried to escape believing he was still held captive.

"Trent?" Clay closed his eyes because he couldn't see anything and his head pounded something fierce.

"Yeah?" Trent noted the pain lines in Clay's crinkled brow.

"Could use something to take the edge off."

"You got it. I'll call the nurse." He pressed the button, surprised the kid actually asked for pain meds. Usually, he had to force them on him.

As the guys stood around the bed, each relieved Clay recognized them, Clay whispered, "Thanks for rescuing me … didn't like hanging around being a piñata.

**Author's Note:**

> YEAH! I finished my latest novel in time to play during Whumptober. Been heads down for the past six months working on BREAKPOINTS Slow Spiral Down, the 11th book in the Beauty of Life series ... and I'm happy to announce it is now available. If you're interested in my writing, check out my website ... lauraactonauthor.com.
> 
> Looking forward to writing a few more whump FF stories before focusing on my next book.


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